


VIOLENT DELIGHTS

by sailormoan



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Anarchy, Angst, Anti-Hero, Bombing, Concentration Camps, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Anti-Hero, Guy Fawkes Night, Parliament (UK), Post-War, Superheroes, Terrorism, Vigilante, Villains, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29665944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormoan/pseuds/sailormoan
Summary: ❝ These violent delights have violent endsAnd in their triumph die, like fire and powder,Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honeyIs loathsome in his own deliciousnessAnd in the taste confounds the appetite.Therefore love moderately.Long love doth so.Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. ❞- Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VIWendy Darling grew up and out of her fantasy: Peter Pan was not coming back, and she had to accept the grown-ups’ world. With Britain amidst this war, the government sent men and boys on the battlefield to defend their nation. John and Michael are sent to the front, and so is her fiancé, Gabriel, leaving her much depressed.And when the war ended, only a few months later, the Norsefire party rose to power through fearmongering and tightened its control over the people. It is on a dark night, one where Wendy plans to end it all, that she meets a mysterious vigilante – or a terrorist, according to some. A man in a dark suit who sports a Guy Fawkes mask saves her life and prompts her to join him in his fight.
Relationships: V/Wendy Darling
Comments: 12
Kudos: 1





	1. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy already watched the oldest of her two brothers, John, leave for the army. This time, it is Michael's turn, the youngest brother. Things become unbearable when it becomes her fiancé's turn.

I shuttered myself in my dark bedroom. With tired red eyes, I looked from my window at the soldiers in the trucks, riding to the military base in St-Mary.

I have not stopped crying for the past hours. I kept thinking of Michael who will soon be among these young boys. He was so young but he already knew what was waiting for him ahead. The war had already taken away from me John – I could not let it take Michael too. The boy was merely sixteen, and he could not be fighting on the frontlines. Mother was not mad at me, but I could tell that she wished I had acted differently. I was not a child anymore, and I should have put on a brave face, to make it easier for Michael. At every single thought I had, I would burst into tears. It had become incredibly easy to cry but so hard to hold everything in. Between the sobbing, the mumbling and the screaming, I could only hear myself no one outside the room.

"Wendy, open the door, will you?" my mother breathed. She seemed far calmer now, but I could sense the desperation in her voice. "Come speak to your brother, please." Of course, she was going to press me to do that. I was still hysterically crying. I began to feel sick. Never before had I cried so much to the point where I felt I was about to throw up. "Please Wendy," my mother sighed, "you will regret not saying goodbye... Michael is waiting downstairs for you..." As she said that, I could feel a strange sensation in my stomach and in my throat.

I threw up, in the end. It got all over the carpet and my dress. Mother gasped when she heard that and forced open the door. Panicking, she barged into my room. "Wendy!! Good Lord..." She forced me to undress and put something clean on. I regretted what had happened because she would be cleaning after me. I felt weak in the knees, but I had to climb into bed. "Lay down," Mother said, "I will take care of everything." She looked more stressed now, between having to say to her son goodbye - perhaps the last one - and soothe a daughter who was having a panic attack. 

"I'm so sorry..." I wept. I tried to sit up straight because if my head hung low, I thought I would vomit once again. I felt that the circumstances of Michael's deployment were beginning to come together. It was something the whole family expected to happen, and I was an utter idiot to believe that he would escape that. 

"Stop crying already," my mother came to me, shaking my shoulders. To no avail. It only reminded me of what I was crying about, and so I started sobbing once again. I heard footsteps downstairs and feared that Michael would be out the door. He had his bags ready and his uniform on. He was given little time to wish farewell to his family. Mother would be furious if I did not see him one last time before his departure, but I could not climb down the stairs, looking like I did. 

"I can't stop," I said as I covered my face with my hands. There was a horrid taste in my mouth, which made me feel even sicker. 

"Get a grip of yourself, Wendy!" she gave me a light smack on the forearm. She was beginning to look irritated. "Your brother is downstairs, waiting for you! Please don't make me mad! Go see him, and you can come back here after!" And she was right, but I did not want him to see me in this state. I felt horrible, I looked even worse. My heart raced in my chest, and my whole body was taken over by chills and trembles. I was also sweating in this new dress. I have done enough to make him feel bad when it was not his fault - he did not choose to be drafted away. I am sure he was thinking about John, and that he was also going to be worried about me. My mother looked at me, a severe look in her eyes. "Wendy." That was enough to make me jolt. She was going to lecture me, once Michael would be gone. I began crying once again. I felt my face flush. Breathing became hard. "Wendy! Get a hold of yourself! _You are not the real victim here_!"

I felt that familiar sensation in my stomach and my neck. I tried to lay down, hoping this would suppress the need to throw up. Downstairs, I heard a bit of commotion. Someone had entered the house, looking for me. I heard the familiar voice of Gabriel. Under normal circumstances, it would have brought me joy, but it only made me feel worse because I was not ready to receive anyone. And much to my dismay, Gabriel had come upstairs to see us. "Good Lord," he hissed, smelling the air, "Wendy, why did you do this to yourself?" He began walking toward me but I raised a hand in the air, asking him to stop. I did not need him to see me like this, as unattractive as I looked. One would say that I should not feel like this when it came to my fiancé, but the way he perceived me mattered a lot. He looked at my mother and asked: "How can I help?" She was not going to make him clean the carpet, nor my dress. There was nothing he could do, it was already kind enough of him to offer that. He sat at the edge of the bed and held my hand. "Breathe in, then out," he incited me to imitate him. I know that the moment I relaxed, he would ask me to head downstairs to see Michael. 

"Gabriel..." I sniffed, "Is Michael still downstairs? Please say he is!"

"Yes, but not for long."

"I don't think I can see him." I had a moment of lucidity of everything that had happened. I knew that I should have, but these truly were my thoughts. His eyes widened for a bit, then he scoffed. "Forgive me, Gabriel," I said plainly, "but I would hate it for him to remember me looking like this, covered in sweat and... you know..." I did not want to repeat the words 'vomit', as if it would trigger me. "Am I doing the right thing?"

"The right thing? Are you out of your mind??" he frowned. "Don't make me angry at you, Wendy, and go see your brother!" It is not like I could welcome him upstairs, here. I sighed, facing a dilemma. It felt childish of me, but it was my biggest worry. I had sat by the window earlier, thinking about our childhood. Michael, John and I, with Peter Pan, and the Lost Boys. I thought, back then, that I was facing big problems, but looking back now, they are nothing compared to the problems I am having. "Go on! Otherwise, you will regret it!" And as he said that, I felt more tears build up. I have wiped them away with everything, from a handkerchief to my sleeves, and it began to irritate my face. Gabriel started to scoff and thump his foot on the floor. Downstairs, items were being moved - most likely bags. Mother was with Michael, most likely hugging him and crying too. Seeing that I was crying still, he sighed loudly. "Unbelievable..." 

Michael was about to leave. "Goodbye, sis!" he called from downstairs. He tried to sound as jolly as he could, but we could all feel the pain in his voice. No one could pretend to be happy now. "I love you!" Those were the last words he had spoken to me - and these were also the last words John had spoken to me when _he_ left. The sound of his boots against the entrance's floor made me panic. I began to hit the mattress with my fists and feet. I sensed that I was about to lose my voice any time soon. There were very few tears left to cry at this point. It was when the door opened and shut that my heart shattered. I tried to get up on my feet, and wobbled a bit, making my way downstairs, but Michael was already out. The truck that came to pick him up was outside. Before I could reach the front door, it drove away, on the main street, and made a turn. I was standing outside, barefoot, in my wrinkled dress. My hair was dishevelled, my face was dirty and I looked like a crazy person.

"Get back inside!" Gabriel had come after me. He helped me climb up the stairs. I could still cry, surprisingly. My teary eyes blurred my vision. That night, I threw up again. My stomach hurt, as empty as it was. Gabriel had tried to console me, but until I received Michael's first letter, I was inconsolable. As he promised, Michael had written to us frequently, after he left. In fact, he began writing his first letter when he arrived at the military base, in St-Mary. He addressed the first letter to me and spoke only positively. He made it sound as if I had not hurt him, by not coming to say goodbye, and that he was having a lot of fun with the other boys. That would not last long, I thought to myself, because he would be fighting where John once fought. And as Michael's schedule got busier, he wrote fewer letters, but his letters grew longer. It would write lengthy texts, explaining in detail his daily activities, his thoughts, his hopes. Mother and I got scared of what would happen. It did not take long for Gabriel to receive a similar letter to what had been given to Michael. When that happened, I felt the same symptoms as what I had previously. The sobbing, the hysteria, the vomiting. All of this was unbearable. I was supposed to anxiously wait for Michael, and now it was Gabriel's turn. This felt all too familiar when it should not have been.

A few days after receiving the letter, Gabriel was ready, dressed in his uniform. I found myself sitting by the window again, gasping for air. I laid with my face on the window sill and an arm hanging down. Gabriel was standing in the doorframe, dressed up in his uniform. He looked handsome, while I looked disastrous. "Wendy, love..." he sighed, saddened, "come on, look at me." I stood up, fixing my posture and looked at him. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears that were rolling down and touched the creases that had formed on my skin, from having laid like this. "Can you please smile? So that I have a happy memory of you?"

"Gabe," I plead, "let's elope and disappear from here. You don't have to go."

He brought me close to him and placed a kiss on my forehead. I was going to miss the sensation of his lips on the top of my head and the warmth of his embrace. "I can't escape my fate," he replies simply.

I began to sob again. He tried to console me but he did not have much time before they would come to pick him up to transport him to the military base. "This is not fate, this is a stupid decision made by the government," I correct him. "Please, let's go. They will not find us. Why must you respect the rules and the authority like this, at your own peril? You have to be smart and witty about it. We can run away." Gabriel had always been like this. He had a lot of respect for the hierarchy and he knew his place. I could only wish he would listen to my words. I had an ounce of rebellion in me, and it was going to suffice the both of us. I have taken care of my brothers my whole life, I could do that for him as well this one time. I quickly understood that Gabriel could not be persuaded otherwise. I untied my grip and began to feel my fingers shake again. He took my hands in his and kissed my knuckles. "Please, reconsider this," I could barely word out. My nose was runny. I needed a handkerchief.

"I will write to you daily," he squeezed my hands, their warmth was going to be something I will long for, "stay strong for me, will you? For your mother as well. For Michael. For John." As he said their names, I began to cry again. He must have known what I was thinking. I doubted that John was still alive - it was only a matter of time until we will receive a letter announcing his death. And Michael had written letters, but they were rarer and shorter. He was already in the midst of war, and he did not have much to talk about - not a lot of positive and joyful things to talk about. 

"Please! Don't go!" DON'T GO!!

A car in the street honked. They had arrived. 

"Don't! NO! STAY HERE!"

"I must go."

"STAY! STAY HERE WITH ME! PLEASE!" I had trouble catching my breath. It was as if my heart was going to burst out of my chest. "We can run away from the back! I will pack my things and we can go!"

"No, Wendy!" He tried to pull my hands away from his arms. "I must go, you are making this more difficult."

"W-what?? Me?? No, don't say that! DON'T SAY THAT!! You, by saying this, are making things more difficult!" And from sadness, it turned into anger. I stumped my foot on the carpeted floor, picked up a decorative pillow, threw it on the ground and kicked it. It hit a table, a few feet away. Gabriel froze, not knowing what to do. He was not going to argue back, nor reprimand me for what I did because time was running out. Instantly, I began to feel ashamed of myself. I was putting him in an uncomfortable situation. My mother's words, about me not being the true victim, resonated back.

"I did not mean this," he looked apologetic. His shoulders dropped heavily. I barely had the time to jump in his arms that the car honked again. "I have to go. I really do. I love you, Wendy. We will reunite after the war," to which, he kissed me one last time and was out the door. I tried to follow him downstairs but I did not exit the house, knowing that I would make a bad impression. From the truck, he blew me a last kiss and waved goodbye. The truck carried the soldiers away, and I could only stand there and watch, for the third time, as another loved male was conscripted into the army. I had very little hope that I would ever see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... Strange choice to combine Peter Pan and V for Vendetta! But trust me on this one, I will make it work!  
> Peter Pan himself will not make an appearance in the story.  
> Characters and elements from both universes will face slight modifications at the service of the storyline and the plot.


	2. Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy lost many people in her life due to the war. When the war ended, she finds herself depressed and facing medical problems. After many months, her mother pushes her to try to get her life back together.

It was only a matter of time until I received news of the death of John. Not much was known about the circumstances but Mother and I supposed that it all happened on the battlefield, most likely shot by the enemy. His body was going to be recuperated by the army, along with the bodies of other soldiers, and he was going to be given a military funeral. As for Michael, he began writing less and less with time. Not much seemed to be going on, at the station in St-Mary's.

St-Mary was located not far from the city, a bit in the countryside. It was a small village almost. They had a school, which indicates that it was not so small after all. This was where the army had a base where soldiers were stationed and prepared to be deployed. We were given permission to assist at John's funeral. Mother and I thought that Michael would be given an exemption to visit his brother one last time, but the young man was nowhere to be found. I tried to ask questions but no one had an answer. What was strange was that Michael's letters, although they came in rarely, still kept coming. He spoke about missing us and regretting he could not come to John's funeral, but he never explained why. 

It was only months later that we found out that Michael had been put into quarantine. There has been a sickness going on, spreading within the barracks. Some soldiers caught something and infected others with a virus. Mother and I were not too worried because Michael was young and healthy and we believed only elders were vulnerable, but it would put a strain on his body when it would come to fight. As time went by, things began to no longer make sense. Michael was still in quarantine but he would not mention it, nor his health, in the letters. Normally, he should have said something to keep us updated. He did not even mention seeing Gabriel, which was indicative that Gabriel was not put in quarantine.

And so, after a few more weeks, we received another letter from the government, similar to the one sent for John's funeral. This one, however, only spoke about Michael having fought for his life on his deathbed. No mention of battle, only that he died of an unknown virus that killed other soldiers, and he would be put in the ground but no one from the outside would be able to assist the funeral. This put my mother in a state of shock - if it hadn't, I would have been the one to weep and lament, of the two of us. I wrote to Gabriel, trying to find some consolation. He would write me kind words, trying to soothe me with his letters, but it was not the same as having him here. 

Weeks went by. It was two months since John first left and a month since Michael left. Gabriel was sent to fight. He could not write to me as much as I would have liked him to. He mentioned in his letters that we, unlike other people, had it easier. It made me laugh, because what could be worse than be drafted away? I would write a letter that was angry, but I would not send it. I would end up writing a new letter, trying to change the subject. I had no idea what Gabriel was talking about but I was convinced he would write this just to try to make me feel better. I did not wish to cause him more pain, so I would questions about his day and tell him about mine. Gabriel's last letter was different than the other ones - it showed more pain and fear than I expected. He must have sensed that something terrible was about to happen. He tried to end the letter by talking about our future wedding, the colour palette he wanted to use for the decorations, and how it would be a good idea to build a cottage outside the city.

After that, I have not received anything else. And just like for John and Michael, I received a letter from the government announcing his death. I was given permission to say one last goodbye, unlike for Michael. Gabriel's family was there, and his parents looked as distraught as I was. We cried during the ceremony and then we parted ways, but I was sure that we would cross paths later in life. They were, after all, almost family to me because Gabriel and I were to be married. 

It should not have been a disappointment to me, but the war ended three months after Gabriel died. There were periods in between of ceasefires, but eventually, the countries signed an armistice. Britain repatriated its soldiers. We had no one to welcome back. It brought Mother and me more pain because John, Michael and Gabriel could have been spared from this if they had not been called. If the war had continued, then their deaths would not have been in vain. It would have made it worth it. 

There was nothing we could do about it, unfortunately. Because of my state, Mother incited me to speak to someone. She thought that a therapist would help me but with my health deteriorating a bit, it was better to see a doctor since I kept feeling sick and unwell, and it was most likely due to my state of mind - just symptoms of my emotions. While we sat together in the reception room, she held my hand and rubbed my knee. "Don't be nervous, Wendy," she said, but she was the nervous one. My name was called, and my mom followed me inside.

"Wendy Darling," my doctor greeted me, "how are you?"

I gave him a weak smile. "Not so well. This is why I am here today."

"Of course," he said. "Have a seat. Tell me what seems to be the problem." I told him everything, from where it hurt, to the feeling of sickness and restlessness, to what had happened to my family. He proceeded, as he routinely did, to ask questions and with the check-up. "I am so sorry to hear about this," my doctor said. I felt my shoulder drop heavily. "Well, I would not worry too much about these symptoms," said the doctor. He put down the stethoscope and gave me a light tap on the shoulder. I put on my shirt back and buttoned it up. The doctor jotted something on his notepad and looked at me. "More frequent asthma attacks, you say. It must be the stress. And everything else you told me indicates that you may be having panic attacks."

I sighed and pulled over my body my coat. "I wonder why."

The doctor chuckled, sniffing. I was glad he did not take offence in my humour. His moustache moved in the most funny way. "Sometimes, there is no logical explanation to things. The body does its own thing. You say you haven't increased your physical activities, but you have more asthma attacks. Maybe you should speak to a therapist. They will help you find coping strategies." Quite the contrary, actually, but I did not say that out loud. "Have you changed your eating habits?" Asked the doctor.

"No," I lied. I have been eating less and less, but I continued to eat the same foods. The portions were also much smaller because I have lost my appetite.

"You did lose a lot of weight," commented the doctor, raising an eyebrow. "I believe that it is connected to what you have been going through these past months. It could be post-traumatic stress disorder. You know, many people who live through such difficult times as you live the same thing as you."

"Really?"

"It's natural for any human to experience some sort of disorder after major events as such. In your case, you still have to endure the aftermath. This type of event stains the brain for a period of time. It varies from one person to another, you know, which is why other people may not experience what you are. I will not prescribe you anything because it is too early to do that. I would rather see that you consult a therapist and learn how to cope with it. I heard from your mother that you had to start all over, a new job, new projects. Is it going well?"

"Sort of," I admitted. "I don't like change. And after the war and the death of my brothers and fiancé, my life has been doing just that: changing. I'm used to the job I had, and it's a different feeling trying to do something different. I miss the people who are gone. My fiancé and I had many plans after we got married. We wanted to live in central London, close to his work. I would find a job somewhere in the city. He and I were also thinking about building a small house in the countryside where we could vacation. I really want my old life back, but at the same time, it's hard even to consider going back. It is the hardest thing I had to do."

"I understand how you feel. These changes are hard to overcome, especially when they take us by surprise. But I believe you can find your way, Ms. Wendy Darling, just give it time." And with these words, I left his doctor's office. The good news was that I was not given any medication. He referred me to a therapist he knew, and I promised my mother I would make an appointment with them. I walked outside with a gloomy expression on my face. After the violent rain from the previous day, the air took a different smell.

On our way home, my mother and I spoke extensively about our future plans. It was hard to think far ahead when I was still not able to process what had happened in the past. She encouraged me to find a new job, somewhere where I could start fresh. It would keep me busy. It would take my mind off of things. After the war, the British government was hiring many people to fill up positions. There was so much to rebuild and repair. Many young women these days found well-paying jobs as assistants or managers in nice and clean offices. Mother must have hoped that I would also meet someone there, but the reality was that I was not ready for any romantic relationships, not now and not any time soon.


	3. Wageworker

In a matter of months, I found myself with a position in the archives department. My job, within the government, had to do with the classification of documents. I also worked extensively with computers and digitizing documents. When I got the job, everything was in shambles. They hired two other girls to help me on the job. 

“Good morning Wendy,” Clarice smiled at me. She was the youngest one of the three of us. A beautiful girl with straight blond hair and a bubbly personality. After having asked her about her family, I learned that her father and brother survived the war and came back home. Her family owned a car repair business, which was put to use to repair vehicles during the war. I had to be honest that I felt a bit jealous, but I was glad that she did not go through what I did. For their service, the family was compensated by the Norsefire party. They helped her get a job within the government, with an entree level, but it was better than nothing. Their business was financed back and their shop was renovated with that money. 

“Good morning, Clarice,” I greeted her back. From what I could see, Donna, the other girl, was not here yet. Seeing that I was looking for her, Clarice said: ‘she sent me a message to say that she will be running late.’ I nodded my head and focused on my work. I put my coat on the coat hanger and put my lunch in the fridge. My desk needed a bit of cleaning and wiping. I opened my computer and logged in. It was not yet time for the morning meeting, so I had time to get settled. The television in the corner kept playing the same news on repeat: last night, Chancellor Adam Sutler gave a speech on the power of unity, and by now, I knew it by heart.

“Good morning,” chirped Donna, who had just entered the building. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

“You are in time, no worries,” I said.

“Yes. The morning meeting is in a few minutes.” Clarice’s words made Donna jump. She hurried to put her coat and her lunch away, to open the computer and prepare. It was routine for us to hold these meetings every morning. We would assemble in the amphitheatre, with our department colleagues and sing the anthem. At the very front, there was a portrait of the chancellor - it almost felt like he was there, among us. And he probably was. The building was packed with an elaborate CCTV system. They said it was to check that we did our work and did not slack off. We would then hold a general meeting, with all the departments, to share news and important information. Then, each department would have a separate meeting to discuss events within their own group. My department was the smallest one - there were three of us and our manager.

After a few minutes, a small melody played on the loudspeakers. I put my key card around my neck. The girls and I walked toward the amphitheatre. It was across the building, so we were going to be the last ones to get there. When we arrived, we took our seats, waiting for the meeting to begin.

“Please, stand up to sing the national anthem,” spoke a robotic voice. The projector lights illuminated the portrait of our dear leader. We did as we were told, and in unison, all the government’s workers began to sing the anthem. It lasted over a minute. We were then asked to sit down, and a few important people walked on stage and began delivering the news. After the news were told, they shared information about work, about problems we were having, and what solutions were brought forward. When that was done too, the crowd broke apart into smaller groups. I found myself surrounded once again by Donna and Clarice. 

“We were supposed to discuss the introduction of a new software,” I brought up.

“Yes, because the previous one was lagging. I have made sure to copy everything twice, in case we are going to lose something.”

“Good idea, Donna!” Clarice applauded.

I sighed loudly. It was a bit too loud because the two other girls looked at me strangely. “What is wrong, Wendy?” I realized then that I had made a mistake.

“Nothing, it’s just… These meetings feel a bit… unnecessary?”

The two girls blinked slowly.

“What do you mean?”

I sighed once again. I did not know how to explain it without sounding offensive. “We… could discuss this in our own department. Why here? And why make these meetings every morning? They could send us a newsletter by email, and it would suffice.”

“That is to help us collaborate, you silly!” Clarice chuckled. “This is the only time in the day where you can meet the other departments to solve a problem!”

That was not true. They could easily book a meeting room, where they would discuss something around a table, with a whiteboard in front of them. I did not mind these meetings in the amphitheatre as much as I minded singing the national anthem daily. Not that I hated my own country, but it felt unnecessary and repetitive.

“Yes, you are right.”

Seeing I was agreeing with them, both girls smiled. I felt like an idiot, talking about a software that we had to try when I did not even have a computer in front of me. While they chatted amongst themselves, I thought about my life. I wanted to talk to someone - Gabriel. He would have listened to my stories. But then, if Gabriel was here, I would not have to work this job. I have gone to speak to a therapist. They helped me learn how to cope and deal with my emotions. That helped me a lot, and I could pass on the advice I was given to my mother, who also felt distressed but never spoke about it. I felt depressed and it did not seem to get better. I dealt with my feelings the strangest way possible. There were days when I could not get out of bed and wanted to cry for the whole time, but other days when I felt healthy and happy and wanted nothing more than to avoid thinking of my problems.

We went on with our daily activities, after the meeting. At my desk, I opened my files and was busy for the whole morning. 

Noon arrived and I had not realized it yet. 

“Let’s go have lunch, Wendy,” Clarice called me. I saw that she and Donna held their lunchbox in their hand. Glancing at my computer, I pondered if I should finish my work first or pause it.

“I will join you later,” I declared, “I have to finish this first.”

“Don’t take too long,” Donna replied. They left me to my work. I focused back my attention on my program. I hurried to finish it and save my progress. Searching my pencil case for my USB key, I inserted it into the computer and opened the file. Amongst the many documents, there was my resignation letter.

My finger floated above my mouse for a second. I then clicked on it. The document opened, and I read the draft of my resignation letter. 

  
  


_ Dear Mr. Adler, _

_ I would like to notify you that I am resigning from my position as Archivist for the British Government effective of November 2th.  _

_ Thank you for the opportunity you have given me to learn and for the proper service. I have genuinely enjoyed my time working here, and I believe that the experience has taught me much.  _

_ I will happily assist in the transition of a new archivist. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Wendy Darling _

  
  


I sighed and corrected the date of the document. Today was November the 4th. I have been meaning to give this document days ago, but I changed my mind at the last moment. My mother and I have talked about me quitting for a long time. This job was a unique opportunity - and I agreed with her. It would be hard to find something as good in the future. The truth was that I did not feel ready and I was not content with where I was in life. I lacked purpose and ambition. I was too passive and I wanted to regain control over my life. 

I looked at my key card that sat on my table. The girls were waiting for me to join them. I closed all my files on my computer and went to have lunch with them. I will tell them later about quitting when the time was right.

As I stepped out of the office and went to grab my lunchbox, I was met by a man in a dark and crisp suit. Standing awfully close to me, I believed at first that I had gotten in his way when I realized that he was cornering me. My back against the wall, I tried not to look panicked. Looking up, I recognized him.

“Mr. Adler,” I greeted the man. “Good day.” Wendy knew two Adler: one of them was my superior, the other was my superior’s twin brother. Their first names were Oscar and Samuel respectively. Of the two of them, Samuel Adler - the man standing presently in front of me - was the scariest one. No one knew where exactly he worked, but it was most definitely for the government. Unlike his twin brother, he was much sharper and much more severe. He seemed to have eyes everywhere, and on everyone.

“Ms. Darling. Good day to you. Where… are you heading?”

I showed him her lunch box. He looked down, taking a peek inside, and saw the water bottle, the apple and the sandwich I kept in. Nothing suspicious. “Will you be joining us for lunch, sir?” I asked innocently.

“I am afraid not,” he spoke, looking as stoic as ever, “I will walk you to the cafeteria, however.”

The atmosphere felt heavy. The temperature dropped. I realized for the first time that we were alone in the hallway. Everyone was downstairs, eating. It was not an accident that he was here and that we bumped into each other. He motioned me to walk and we walked side by side. 

“How was your weekend?” he asked but I could see that he did not care. Such frivolities irked me. I despised small talk but this time, I was going to talk for as long as I could so that we could not address the elephant in the room. I began to tell him about my weekend. How my mother and I tried to bake but it ended miserably, and how the oven got broken so I had to call someone to repair it, and how they could not come until next week, so we were without an oven. “Listen,” he stopped me mid-sentence, “I don’t care about that. How did you find today’s meeting?”

It felt as if a lightbulb had illuminated above my head. He must have heard me comment on the daily meetings in the amphitheatre. I had gotten myself in a lot more trouble than I thought I was, and I was not sure if someone snitched on me or if the cameras had picked up the conversation. “Nothing out of the ordinary. With my department, we were considering implementing a new software for the classification of the archives. The current one has small bugs in it and it is causing us problems. The only worry we have is that the new one will be expensive and not worth the money. It is possible that -”

I was cut off again. I felt my cheeks flush. “I wanted to ask you if you had any _ concerns _ or  _ remarks _ to share about the daily meetings.” I instantly knew that he wanted me to spill everything I thought. If he thought I would say anything to him, then he must have been an idiot. Samuel Adler was the last man to inspire trust in the employees. 

I gulped and kept my mouth shut. His eyes pierced mine. “Nothing,” I replied flatly, “just that, in the back, we don’t hear the people on stage well. You should do something about the microphones or the loudspeakers.”

After having said that, he looked at me for a long time. Finally, he nodded his head and said: “Noted. Enjoy your meal.” And he left me, by myself, in the hallway. Only when he disappeared from my vision could I breathe normally again. I began to feel paranoid. I feared everyone. I feared everything. These cameras have, for a long time, made me uncomfortable, but knowing that they were all pointing at me made me feel uneasy. This only strengthened my will to quit my post. In a few moments, I was about to sit at the table with Donna and Clarice and I would have to pretend I felt comfortable and happy when in fact, I was not. 


	4. Waylay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy confirms her beliefs that there some something wrong with the people working for the government. She tracks one, on her way back home, in a dark alley, and learns that he does shady things in the name of the Party.

I came back from lunch and hurried to my desk. Meeting with Mr. Samuel Adler only strengthened my resolve. I could not keep working here if all my communications and words were being monitored. Not that I was a blabbermouth, but I have seen many people get in trouble because of something they said. Mother and I have already lost many people, and I was not ready to risk my life for a few thousand pounds in my salary.

I sat at my desk, finalized my resignation letter and printed it out. It was my luck to be alone in the office. Donna and Clarice were still chatting outside, in the reception room, with some cute guys from another department. I picked an envelope and put my resignation in. As I did that, there was a knock on the door. “May I come in?” Mr. Oscar Adler was standing there.

I looked at him and almost jumped out of my skin. Although the two brothers dressed differently, I could not help but confuse the two. It was a good cop and bad cop dynamic that they had, and I was very well aware of that. I could not trust Mr. Oscar Adler one bit. “Of course,” I smiled, “it is your office, after all.”

He chuckled at my joke and strolled inside, looking around. Recently, shelves have been added to the room and the desks have been rearranged to give the office more space. It was the first time he had seen it since the changes have been made. “I like what you girls have done to the place,” he commented, “it does open up the room more.”

“Too bad we don’t have a window,” I chuckled. Instantly, I realized I may have made another mistake. My face was red. I turned my back in the hopes that he would not see that. I was lucky that he laughed a bit. It seemed that he agreed.

“I will try to talk to my superiors and see if they can move us to a higher floor. Maybe we will be given an office with a view.” That did not matter much to me, at this point. After my incident with the other Adler, I was ready to leave. I approached him and handed him the envelope. “What is this?” he asked before opening it.

“My resignation letter, sir,” I reply.

He almost choked on his saliva. “Resignation letter?”

“I am really sorry,” I tried to smile and also look apologetic. “I have been thinking about this. I have still been feeling… under the weather, with all that has happened in my life. I am not feeling up to the task.”

“Don’t mind me asking, but does it have anything to do with … you know …” I knew he was talking about the death of my brothers and my fiancé. Most people in my workplace did not know the details about my life, but they knew the general picture. I knew that it must have been uncomfortable for him to bring it up, but it was true - in part. I nodded my head. “Well,” he sighed, and he quickly read the letter, “that cannot be helped, I suppose. Will you stay here for awhile, until I hire someone else?”

“Of course.”

“And will you help me train them for the position?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Wendy Darling. We will miss you, you know.” When he said that, I smiled. I liked hearing it, but I was not sure I felt the same way. With my resignation letter in hand, Mr. Oscar Adler was gone. I returned back to work, many things were still left to do, and I will have to break the news to Donna and Clarice.

←→

I left my office late in the evening. Donna and Clarice went with other people to have dinner. I was sitting at my desk when Mr. Oscar Adler came back. “You’re still here?” he laughed. “It’s 6 PM, go home!”

I laughed. “I need to finish my work. If I don’t, it will pile up tomorrow.”

He wanted to make a joke or say something. Luckily - or unluckily - his twin brother appeared behind him. He and I shared a look, and he focused his attention on his twin. “It seems that your subordinates like you so much that they refuse to leave.” I tried to laugh a bit, to show that I was no threat, the conversation he and I had too fresh in mind.

“Well, look who is here,” Mr. Oscar Adler laughed. “I thought you would have left by now.”

“I have some things to get done, but I will leave soon.”

I gulped. In that moment, I wanted to leave with Mr. Oscar Adler. Anything to escape his twin brother. I watched them exchange a few words - some were about work, others were more personal - and pretended to focus on my work.

“I should get going,” Mr. Oscar Adler said to both his brother and I. He put down his leather bag and a set of keys on a desk so that he could put on his coat, and picked up his bag again. “I will see you two tomorrow.”

“I will accompany you to your car.”

I felt like I was able to breathe again. The twins walked out, heading to the underground parking lot, and I was once again, left on my own. I listened to their footsteps walk in the distance. My eyes scanned the room. I spotted the set of keys on the desk. Standing up, I picked them up and ran after them.

“Mr. Adler! Mr. Adler!” I shouted. “Your keys!”

The two men had already entered an elevator and were already heading down. I looked at it and knew I had no hope catching up to them via the stairs. I looked at the keys - none of them were for a car or a house. It must have been a different set of keys from the office. _Too bad,_ I thought to myself, _he will notice he is missing them only tomorrow._

I headed back to my desk, closing the door behind me. I sat down on my chair, looked at my computer screen, then the set of keys. The right thing to do would have been to send a text message to my superior, telling me he forgot something and that I will keep them in a drawer in my desk for him to find the next day. What I did, instead, was look at each key, trying to guess what they opened. The government had for a long time given up the classic keys and opted for the electronic key cards. Why would he have these? Most of them had a different shape, meaning that they were meant for a different department. Two of them corresponded to our department, the one of archives.

“What’s the point…” I mumbled, unsure as to why the penny dropped just now. I thought of myself as crazy because normally, it should not have even caught my attention. I quickly returned my focus on my work and hurried to finish it. When I was done, I quickly packed my things, put on my coat, and left the office. I locked the door behind me and headed toward the elevators. Hearing sounds coming from the stairs, my first reflex was to hide.

“... you sure you forgot them? Did you check the pockets of your pants?”

I recognized the voice of Samuel Adler. His brother was with him.

“I certainly did. And before you ask, I also checked my bag, but they are not there!”

I winced. Mr. Oscar Adler did not speak with that tone with me. He was finally showing his true colours. He did not have to put on a persona with his brother. I watched them head back to the office, and unlock the door. It was only a matter of time until they came out of it and found me. I did not want to be interrogated anymore, and I certainly grew curious about the meaning of those keys. The metal, in the palm of my hands, was at my body’s temperature. I disappeared in an elevator and took a different exit from usual.

←→

Outside, the sky was cloudy. It was getting darker by the minute. The restaurants and pubs were lively, with loud music. Most people were out, enjoying themselves, at this time, before curfew was put in effect. I found myself walking through the streets of London, not sure what I was looking for. I had left the office earlier than I wanted, just to escape an interrogation.

“I need an alibi,” I mumbled to myself. I decided to go look for Donna and Clarice. Hopefully they would still be out, drinking and eating. I was going to tag along and spend all my time with them. Hopefully they will be drunk enough to realize that I joined the party late. If questions were asked tomorrow, they will sustain my claim.

Recalling the name of the restaurant, I ran to find them. Inside, I asked a waiter where ‘Donna and Clarice’ sat at, and I found them at a table with three handsome men. “Over here!!” Donna waved her hand at me. I smiled and walked over them as naturally as I could. I greeted everyone. I shook hands with the men, introducing myself. A waiter took my order and I waited for my food to arrive. “We are so glad you could make it, Wendy! Meet Sebastian, Adam and Peter!” I froze when I heard the name ‘Peter’. Memories from my childhood came flooding in. Then, it made me think about John and Michael. I caught myself before I went in a downward spiral.

“It’s a pleasure,” Peter said, a dashing smile on his face.

I tried to reciprocate. “The pleasure is all mine.”

And I spent dinner with my coat on my lap. I felt the heavy keys in the pocket. My impression was that they were heavier than they should have been. I felt incredibly nervous and paranoid. My biggest fear was that the Adlers would waltz in any time soon.

Peter, who had kept an eye on me for awhile, leaned in and said: “you look a bit fidgety, are you alright?” This did not help me. I became more self-aware. I nodded my head, despite knowing the contrary, and tried to take deep breaths. I did not like to have this much attention on me, especially coming from a man who reminded me of my first love.

And so, the evening came to an end. The first people to leave were those who lived far from there and did not want to get caught outside during curfew – the others probably lived around the area. I found myself being at the very limit, with still enough time to walk home, but not enough time if I was slow.

“Please, come have lunch with us more often, Wendy!” Clarice said, a bit tipsy. “We have so much fun, when it’s the whole squad.” I laughed, happy that my presence was appreciated. Clarice then said: “please, take a taxi home or let us accompany you!”

My cheeks turned red. “That will not be necessary!”

“Oh, please!” Donna intervened. “I am sure Peter has no problem doing that.”

“No, I’m serious!” I hurried to pay the tab so that I could leave. They would insist on the topic and I was going to be in an uncomfortable situation.

“Wait!” Peter called for me. “Can I have your number, Wendy?”

My cheeks turned even redder. This was not what I had hoped out of tonight. “Uh… Sure?” And I wrote it down on a napkin. I wrote it down in the worst handwriting I could – because I was in a hurry and because I did not want him to be able to read it later. I could not think of a better way to reject him for now. I ran out the door, my coat on, and made my way through the streets, in the direction of my home.

The sky was dark by now and the air was chillier. I tightened my coat around my body, still feeling the keys dangle in my pockets. My house was not far from the area. I lived in a building in a quiet part of town, surrounded by a park, a school, a few shops. The cobblestone beneath my feet glistened under the moon and streetlights. I felt incredibly lonely, as I continued to walk. The sound of the bars and restaurants diminished as I headed further and further away. 

Occasionally, I would look behind me, to see if there were any people around.

“CURFEW WILL BE IN EFFECT IN 10 MINUTES.”

The loudspeakers startled me. I hurried my pace. I still had the time, but I did not want to test my luck. I turned a corner and then crossed a street. I was in an area with which I was familiar. I had visited all of these shops before, in the past.

“CURFEW WILL BE IN EFFECT IN 5 MINUTES.”

I began to jog. From afar, I could see my building. My apartment was the only one with the lights off. I could make it in time if I were quick enough. The city had people roaming the streets, a sort of secret police, and I would hate to be caught by one of them for being out.

A car drove by and stopped meters away. I froze on the stop, recognizing the man who stepped out of it. He, however, did not recognize me. I watched him exit the car, close the door behind, and disappear into a dark alley.

_What is Samuel Adler doing here?_

My curiosity piqued. He did not know where I lived – although, if he wanted to, he could easily search information on me in the government’s database. He clearly was not here for me. What business brought him there?

“CURFEW WILL BE IN EFFECT IN 2 MINUTES.”

I hated this. I was facing this dilemma – follow Mr. Samuel Adler in the alleyway or head home. I was dying to know what brought him here, but I knew that it would land me in so much trouble. “Why, Wendy?” I asked myself. I made the decision to follow him. Before I penetrated the alleys, I made sure to untwist the lid of the car’s reservoir. Diesel was going to leak out, little by little. Eventually, his car will stop driving, and he will notice what had happened. After having done that, I ventured after him. I kept a safe distance and carefully hid behind objects. Luckily, he was too busy to even sense my presence.

“Boys,” his voice boomed, “this is the jackpot that we hit! Tonight is the night!” Chills ran down my spine. Every time he was happy, I knew that something terribly wrong had happened. I hid behind some trashcans and watched him approach two men. They held a third on hostage, on his knees. His head was hanging low, his hair hiding his face. It looked like he had gotten a good beating. “He’s the man we have been looking for,” he continued to say. “Did you knock him unconscious?”

“Not yet, sir.” The man who answered wore a badge of the party. It must have been the secret police. I held my breath and felt my heart palpitate in my chest. They removed his hat – a rather strange-looking and old-fashioned hat – revealed a mask of Guy Fawkes. Who knew what was happening to him, if he was looking straight ahead, at me, or up at these men, or even if his eyes rolled back?

Seeing Adler predate on his man alarmed me, slightly reminding me of how he cornered me and tried to make me spill what I had said in the amphitheatre and more. I became more and more wary of him and now I had my proof that something was terribly wrong. Three man vs. one woman. I had no hope.

“You’ve done a good job, boys. Remember, it is all for the Party.” Adler nodded his head and his henchmen and walked back to his car. He almost passed me, but I was hidden well enough that he did not spot me. I watched him disappear on the same alley he took to get there and hop in his car. The engine started and he drove in the distance, leaving behind a small trail of diesel. I sighed, not feeling much hope. I could not possibly save him, despise Adler having left.

“Show us your face, V,” one of Adler’s henchmen said.

I quietly stood up on my feet. The men did not spot me but the man on his knees did. I was not sure we shared a look, but I starred right into the holes of his mask, where his eyes were, and I nodded my head slowly. My hand was in my purse, reaching for something. There was a tacit understanding between him and I.

We could only hear the sound of his breathing behind the mask. “No.”

“I’m sorry buddy, but I don’t think you realize this: you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“No… I think I do…”

I pulled out the set of keys from my pocket and stabbed one of them in the back of the neck with it. It all happened so fast. The shock was weak, but enough to scare them. The man fell down, letting out a loud scream. The other, spotting me, dropped the masked man, giving him time to twist his arm and push him to the ground.

“Where are my knives??” He asked. I had no clue if he was talking to me. I have not spotted any knives. He grunted as if it was going to be a hassle for him to fight without knives. He kicked the man on the ground once again, as he was about to attempt to get up, twisted the other man’s arm, then kicked him in the face.

“Watch out!” I shouted. He listened to me and kicked the gun out of the other man’s hand, sending it flying far away. I could only back away in fear and stand against a wall. He had the situation under control now. I watched him as he fought them, gracious and sharp in his movements. This kind of fighting must have taken years to learn, practice and perfect.

He knocked unconscious the two men. They dropped on the ground, at his feet. By now, I should have also run away. Who knew why they held him hostage, they could have had valid reasons? The curfew was also in effect. I was in big trouble. Me and him, alone in this alley. My best chance was that he would forget about me and move along. The worst thing that could happen would be that he would focus his attention on me, and I would be the one in trouble.

To my own misfortune, he turned around and focus his attention on me. I began to feel very scared, under his gaze.

“That’s a very creative and unconventional weapon you have there,” he commented amusingly.

I was once again corned against a wall. Around me, unconscious bodies laid on the ground and a masked man standing in front of me. His whole body tensed up and he turned his back to me. His hands were on his face. I became intrigued, completely forgetting that I was in the presence of a man who was most likely arrested.

“I have to thank you,” he said, “for what you did for me. I must apologize because it seems that my mask has just broken in half, and I caught it right before it would hit the ground.”

I wanted to say something, but I was not quite sure what. He thanked me and he was not going to attack me, but I did not feel safe either. “Wait,” I said, a bit dubious of him, “but I think I have something for you. It would be a temporary solution.” I searched my purse, then my pencil case. I carried in it some transparent tape. I handed it to him and without turning around, he took the tape from my hand and taped back the mask together. I waited a moment, giving him his privacy. I assumed that a man wearing a mask did not want to have his identity revealed.

It took him a few moments to tape back the two pieces, and when he turned around, it looked like nothing had happened. The tape disappeared completely. “There! That’s better!” He said and I thought he was cheerful. “You have been a darling.”

“How do you know my surname?” I asked. There was a pause, and I imagined he blinked behind his mask. Did he not understand me? I realized that I had just asked a stupid question; there was absolutely no way that he would know my surname. I had to rectify my mistake: “My name is Wendy Darling.”

“Wendy! _Wen_ - _dyyy_ … It has such a nice ring to it,” he singsonged. Seeing I was still on the ground, he extended a hand at me. “It is an honour to meet you, Wendy Darling. You came at just about the right time!”

“I am glad you’re not hurt,” I said, inspecting him. He looked far too happy and healthy to be hurt. “Why did they have you trapped and on your knees? Did you do something?”

“ _Mmmmmaybe_!”

I was going to become exasperated eventually. Seconds ago, he was about to be beaten, arrested and unmasked, and he looked like a puppy that had been beaten, but now, he was a child who had just arrived at a carnival. My shoulders drop down and I was instantly regretting my decision. Whatever he did, it was not worth getting into trouble. “And I suppose being out past curfew is not the reason,” I continued.

“Right you are! Do you really care to know?”

Not really. She was not going to answer that, fearing that he may be taking it the wrong way. There was something about him that did not sit right. She did not want to anger him pointlessly either, in fear that he might strike back.

He extended his hand, helping her stand up. _Such a gentleman,_ she noted.

“Can I have a name?” I asked. “Anything I can call you.”

“You may call me V.”

“Like… the letter?”

“Precisely.” Suddenly, he took out a knife from under his cape. With it, he carved a large V on a poster. I jumped back and watched him put the knife back at his hip. “Can I ask you, Wendy Darling, if you have the time?”

I picked up my phone from my purse and checked the time. “It is 11:03,” I answered. “I should head home by now.”

I was trying to walk around him when he placed a hand on my elbow. “The night is still young, Wendy Darling! Why are you in a hurry?”

“The curfew is in effect, V, I think you know that” I furrowed my brows, “You should also head home, before more men come after you.” It was my guess that he had a place to live. Who knew what lifestyle this man had, in this costume?

“I know that you may be scared about those Fingermen,” he referred to Samuel Adler’s henchmen, “but the night is still young. I will assure your safety, and you will be undetected by the government’s eyes.” He gave me his hand. I looked at it for a long time. It felt like minutes. It was crazy of me to even consider the idea.

“This really isn’t a good idea,” I said again. I cave in, in the end. It must have been the stupidest thing that I ever did. He took me by the hand and led me to the rooftops. I trusted him to avoid the security cameras. If I were to be detected, I would be in big trouble – losing a job would be the least of my worries. “Where are you taking me?” I asked him.

“Have you ever seen London before, Wendy?” He asked instead of answering my question.

“Yes,” I answered as if it was the most obvious thing. “I am a Londoner.”

“Have you ever seen the Old Bailey? It’s a beautiful building. Majestic.”

“Only from the outside.”

“Well, let’s be on our way!”

I sighed, unsettled by how happy he was. We made our way, from the rooftops. He found ways to help me cross over, by setting ladders or planks, and helping me cross. Many times, my heart had pounded in my chest, thinking that I would fall. The buildings were not tall, and the fall would not be abrupt. I tried to regain the courage I had went Peter took us to Neverland.

“It would be nice to have some Pixie Dust at hand,” I chuckled. V heard me but did not say anything. Of course, he did not understand the reference.

We reached a building not far from the Old Bailey. From where we were standing, we could see the statue of Lady Justice. A tall woman, holding a sword in one hand and a scale in the other. The view was beautiful. I have never seen it from so close. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” V asked me. I nodded my head. “Care to tell me what time it is, Wendy?”

I looked down at my phone. “It is 11:57.”

He nodded his head. I wondered what was going on in his mind. He looked around and found lying on the ground a folding chair. He unfolded it, wiped the dust off with his glove and invited me to take a seat. “It will begin soon,” he assured me. Assured me what? That, I had no idea.

“It sounded like Mr. Samuel Adler had something personal with you,” I noted. “How have you made him into an enemy? You know, while he got out of his car and came to find you, I managed to open the reservoir.”

“Oh, you did?” He spoke through the mask, more expressive than a masked man should have been. “Do you despise him too?”

“He put me in a tough position at work. I thought I was going to get into trouble. I quit today, actually. Because of him.”

V nodded his head slowly. I was not going to volunteer more information than that, but I wanted him to know that we both hated the same man. I thought to myself that I should have slashed his tires, but it would have been too obvious that it was a delinquent who had done this. The reservoir-idea was more subtle.

“You certainly are a witty girl,” he chuckled and pinched my cheek. I was not sure if he was sincere, but I did not comment on it any further. I felt uneasy, knowing that he could see my face and how my expressions changed while I could not even see his eyes. “Why are we here?” I asked, breaking the silence. I looked around. The view was certainly beautiful, but it was not worth me getting in trouble.

“Well, Wendy,” he said, “I am, among many other things, a… musician, of sort. And I brought you here with me to assist to a concerto!”

“A musician?” I could hardly believe him. If he had said ‘clown’, I would have taken him more seriously. “In the middle of the night?”

“Well, yes! That is the magic of it! I called upon our beloved Tchaikovsky to give us a show that shall not be forgotten! One of a kind!” He started speaking with dramatic gestures. He was almost bouncing around, looking light as a feather. I held my purse tightly against me, feeling the set of keys through it. He looked around the rooftop and found a metal stick. It must have been an antenna of sort or a tool. He lightly tapped on a duct and breathed in deeply. “Oh… yes…” He was gone, in his own world. I watched him speak to himself, swaying his body left and right to the rhythm of a melody in his own head. “Can you hear it?”

I sat quietly and looked around me. Hear what? There was nothing. I tried to listen carefully and focused. The streets of London were quiet. It was just us. “No, I don’t, I’m sorry.”

“In any moment…”

And then the music played. The volume increased gradually. An orchestra. It was through the loudspeakers, booming from every street corner and alley. I jumped out of my chair and approached the edge of the rooftop. “No way… You did this?? How??”

He continued to wave and move his hands in the air, the metal stick in his hand like a maestro would. The loudspeakers were listening to his commands. It was a big surprise – those loudspeakers were only to make announcements to the population, not to play music. It was a bold move of him – one that would have gotten anyone else in trouble.

I chuckled – he seemed to be enjoying himself. He was probably a dramatic person himself, or it was part of his persona. Whatever it was, I found it a bit adorable. There was a childlike spirit in him that reminded me of Peter.

Then, the unexpected happened. The statue exploded, then it was the upper part of the building. The base of it followed. All of it followed the rhythm of the song. “Yes! YES!!” V shouted. “Is it not marvellous?? Is it not, Wendy??”

I brought my hands to my mouth, covering it. My whole body was tense as if I had just received a tetanus shot. Everything I had thought previously vanished. I was baffled, shocked by what had happened. V exceeded any expectations. I watched the shards and blocks fly in the air and land around the building. Dust raised in the air and fireworks were shot in the air. A giant red V was written in the sky, the signature of the artist himself.

Turning on my heels, I ran while V was busy with his theatrics. “Wendy!! Where are you going?? I promised to accompany you back and assure your safety!!” He shouted at me. I ran to the staircases led to the alleyways and hurried on my way down. “Be careful! The stairs are slippery!” I heard him shout. I did not care about any of that. I wanted to hurry home. After what I had just seen, I did not need to have him know the location of my apartment.


	5. Watchdog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V has been keeping an eye on Wendy ever since they met. She learns that the police are coming after her and makes an escape.

The next day, I was back at work as if nothing had happened. Clarice and Donna were at the office, so engrossed in their work, that they almost did not notice me walk in. I placed my coat on the coat hanger and my lunch in the fridge. A trolley with boxes has been left next to my desk. “This is for you,” Clarice told me.

  
  


I approached the trolley and took out the boxes. “How are you feeling this morning?” I asked them. They did not look tired, but they did not look in top shape. “The alcohol really did get to me, haha!” I was trying to get them to remember the previous night. If they remembered that I was there, they would remember to mention it later to Mr. Oscar Adler.

  
  


“A bit of a headache,” Clarice whined, “but my mother told me to drink pickle juice. Awful. AWFUL! Apparently, it is good for hangovers.” Her comment made Donna and I laugh.

  
  


“You really should take it easy with the booze,” Donna lectured her, “you know we are no longer sixteen. We can’t hold our alcohol like we used to!” 

  
  


I opened the lid and inspected the content of the boxes. Several documents were placed there, in different coloured folders. Many of them had to do with tax returns, others were with the government’s expenses. They must have been sent here by the accountants. All I had to do is classify them in their proper room and insert everything in the database. There was a knock at the door. Mr. Oscar Adler was standing by the door, his leather bag in his arms. “Good morning ladies,” he greeted us. We greeted him back in unison. He adjusted his glasses over his nose. The thick frame had this effect of softening his features. The previous day, I had noticed how harshly and crudely he spoke to his twin brother, who had this reputation of being scary, and I was beginning to think that Oscar Adler did not have any vision problems, but rather tried to appear as less of a threat. 

  
  


I found myself surprised by my own interpretation of events. Normally, I would have never thought that about my own boss. He has been nothing but kind and supportive of me since the beginning. He mentored me in this job, showed me the ropes. My first instinct was to be grateful for what he did and to support him.

  
  


“I see you will have a busy morning,” he noted, looking at the boxes on my desk. “Good thing that you finished everything that you had to do yesterday.” 

  
  


I smiled, suddenly feeling fearful. I sensed that he wanted to talk to me in particular. He made his way to me but did not pull me aside. I looked at Donna and Clarice, who were too busy to even pay attention to us.

  
  


“Yesterday, I left in a rush,” he said. I nodded my head, paying attention to what he said. “I must have forgotten some keys, but I am not sure where. Did you happen to come across them?”

  
  


The keys were in my purse. I lied and shook my head. “No, sir. But if I find them, I will let you know.”

  
  


He nodded his head and looked at Clarice and Donna. I wondered why he was not going to ask them about the keys. Did he not suspect them? I watched him walk away, toward his own office and got back to work.

  
  


I was kept busy during the whole morning. I took care of the most urgent tasks. The tax records were the densest ones. The government kept track of everything minutiously. I set them back in their compartment, then in the box. I was going to have to take them back where the government kept all records. I thought that this task would take me a long time and soon, it would be lunchtime.

  
  


“I need to drop something at Mr. Adler’s office,” I told the girls, “and then I will have lunch.”

  
  


“We’ll meet you later, then,” said Donna.

  
  


And with my key card at my neck, I left our office. I found Mr. Adler sitting at his desk, busy with a phone call. I took a seat on the empty chairs in front of him and waited. As he spoke over the phone, I looked at how he had rearranged his office. He must have taken that initiative after he saw that the girls and I changed and renovated our shared office. My eyes set on him once again. He looked up, at the ceiling, then at me. “Thank you, Adam. I will call you back.” And he hung up the phone. Now I had his undivided attention. I gave him a smile. 

  
  


“I just brought you these,” I placed a few envelopes on his desk and slid them in his direction.

  
  


“Oh my,” he pretended to be shocked, “more resignation letters? I will have a heart attack,” and he laughed at his own joke. I smiled. He took the documents from me, then suddenly, the door of his office opened. A man stepped in. “Oh, what a surprise, brother!” Mr. Oscar Adler said. 

  
  


Mr. Samuel Adler nodded his head and Oscar and me. He and I locked gazes for a bit, and then he focused his attention back on his brother. I felt better, now that he did not pay attention to me. “I will be going outside for lunch. Care to join me?”

  
  


“Certainly,” Mr. Oscar Adler said, standing up and looking for his coat. He looked at me and said: “do you mind, Wendy? I will close the office behind. I also have one other task to ask you to take on.” He placed a hand on my back and walked me outside. “Feel free to tackle it before your break or after, it does not matter.”

  
  


He showed me another trolley with more boxes. Inside these boxes, there were more documents. He told me they needed to be classified in the archive room and inserted into the electronic database. It was the type of task that, if I was quick enough, could get it done in a matter of an hour. “They all go in section D-12,” he informed me, “I did the pre-required work myself, it only needs to be put on the shelf.”

  
  


“Oh.” That was the first time I heard him saying that. In general, it was Clarice, Donna or my job to sort documents and name them, then to store them on the shelf. Most of it required a lot of reading and analysis from my part, which was very time-consuming. This task was going to be much faster than I anticipated. “I will get on with it, sir.”

  
  


I pushed the trolley away, where the archives room was. The twins headed in the opposite direction, toward the elevators. I use my badge to access the room and the door automatically opens for me. Inside the rooms, shelves one next to the other hold documents and papers. In the very center, several computers contain all the libraries in digital form. I proceed to enter the documents in the database. 

  
  


“Letter L…” I whisper to myself. I scan the computer screen. Most files that appear are familiar to me: I was the one to insert them in the database. Most of the titles are familiar. I analyze the date of the document I have at hand and the dates on the computer. Documents dating back to ten years ago do not appear. “That’s strange.” There was a gap in the data. 

  
  


I tried to recall what had happened ten years ago. England was on the brick of entering the war. John, Michael, and Gabriel were still alive. Most of the world had suffered from the nuclear war, and few countries were still left standing. It was a chaotic time, where many documents have been lost, but my expectation was that someone had taken care of it and retrieved what they could. It was impossible, I have thought to myself. It was a problem that someone had to take care of. Did Mr. Adler know about this? It all happened under his watch.

  
  


I kept looking through the documents. Many of which I had inserted in the past could no longer be found. I believed that the software was causing this problem, but I started to think that perhaps they could have been deleted. Mr. Adler had the right to do that, with the permission of his superior. I began to feel angry because my hard work has gone to waste. “Unbelievable…” I whine. I should have complained to Mr. Adler but I was afraid it would land me in trouble. I had to endure this for yet another two weeks, and I was going to be free. 

  
  


I came across one document that seemed to have been lost. It was a scan of a news article dating back ten years ago. The newspaper was not complete. It spoke of a work camp located in England, not far from Salisbury. I have heard before of Salisbury but never of the camp. I began to doubt everything. A camp for work seemed unlikely. During the war, England needed as many men as it could gather to send out to fight. Because factories were empty, women have been given jobs that have been traditionally taken on by men. No one would have been put to work in a camp - it was a waste of force. I wanted to ask John, or Michael, or Gabriel about it. They liked politics and they liked showing what they knew. Mother may not have an answer to my questions, but she was the only one who I could ask. 

  
  


My mind wandered to the keys that I had in my possessions. I had many questions to ask, and one of them had to do with what these keys opened.

  
  


←→

  
  


In the evening, everything seemed normal at first. I was greeted by the security man at the entrance, by the janitor who was cleaning the hallways, and by the delivery man who had just brought a package. “Are those the empty envelopes I ordered?” I asked him, a big smile on my face. “Thank you!” I headed upstairs to the office with the new office supplies. 

  
  


On my way there, I passed the people working at the reception. I greeted the secretaries but they raised their eyebrows at me. I thought that it was strange but I tried not to think about it. They began to whisper amongst themselves, once I passed them. When I reached the office, Clarice and Donna were already seated at their desk, eyes locked to their screen. “Good afternoon,” I greeted them. 

  
  


They both gave me a side-eye glance and nodded their head subtly. It was strange but I did not pay attention to it. I put my coat on the coat hanger, my lunch in the common fridge and sat at my desk. In quiet, we worked, the only sound that could be heard was the one of our fingers against the keyboard. 

  
  


I heard above my head someone clear their throat and found Clarice standing there. “How can I help you?” I asked her.

  
  


“These documents are for you,” she gave me some files. “They require your signature.”

  
  


I opened the file. Some documents need to be delivered to another office across town. I had to sign and stamp them. “Thank you,” I said, noting that Clarice was still standing there. “I will take care of that.” I will have to head to the post office later in the afternoon.

  
  


Clarice cleared her throat again. She would not leave me at once.

  
  


“What is it, Clarice?”

  
  


She looked around. Donna was busy with her work. She bent down a bit, to be at my level, and in the most serious tone, she said: “Are you in trouble, Wendy?”

  
  


I froze. “In trouble? No? Why?”

  
  


“Uh… I am just worried,” she said, “that’s all.”

  
  


I was confused. “What are you talking about?” I asked. Clarice would not give me an answer. She simply shook her head and returned to her seat. I watched her avoid locking eyes with me and sit at her computer. I did not like that. 

  
  


The folder was set next to me. I turned my attention to my desk, and found a sticky note left on the single picture frame sitting there. I never put sticky notes on that, it was always on the borders of the monitor. Someone else must have put it there. I picked it up and read: 

  
  


_Check your notepad._

  
  


It was written in a beautiful handwriting, and it was written in red. Could it have been Clarice who left the note there? Or maybe Donna? Impossible.

  
  


I did have a notepad, indeed. It served me as a to-do list. I kept it in a drawer, and although the drawer was unlocked, no one had the right to simply look through it. No one had the right to simply look through my things. I opened the drawer slowly, as to not attract any attention. The notepad was exactly where I had left it before. 

  
  


The first page was empty. I was beginning to be worried. I flipped through the pages, and noted that the very last page, there was a note left for me, again. My heart palpitated rapidly in my chest, but I tried not to show my emotions on my face. Cameras were pointing at me and the girls at all times. 

  
  


_London has its eyes on you. You need to get out. Find in the drawer the Bluetooth earpiece I have left for you. Put it on and hide it beneath your hair, then wait for my instructions._   
  


There was, indeed, an earpiece in the drawer, hidden beneath the notepad. I could have almost missed it, if I had not looked carefully. Someone had indeed placed it there for me to find. I ripped the piece of paper, crumbled it and hid it in the pocket of my pants. I did the same thing for the sticky note. I searched in my purse for my comb and I untied my hair. Donna glanced at me. I smiled at her and pretended to rearrange my hair. When she looked away, I subtly placed the earpiece and used strands of hair to hide it.

  
  


_“Good, it’s about time,”_ a suave voice spoke to me. _“Don’t reply to what I say, just execute.”_

  
  


The voice was familiar. I pretended to be looking at my computer screen, focused on my work.

  
  


_“I have infiltrated the security system and have access to the video footage and cameras. This is how I will keep an eye on you. I need to evacuate you from the building before the police arrive. They are two streets away from here. Yes, they are coming for you. Do as I say, and you will be safe.”_

  
  


The voice, muffled and changed by the electronic device, was all too familiar to me. It suddenly hit me that I recognized that voice. I had heard it once, and it had to be V. The danger seemed clear to me. All had to do with the explosion of the Old Bailey. I regretted having gone on the rooftop with him. I was not sure I could trust him, but suddenly, everyone’s behaviour made sense.

  
  


I understood that, if V infiltrated the CCTV, he must have been able to see what everyone else could see. There was no way he could shut it down entirely. I looked around. I was beginning to feel unsafe around my coworkers. Most of them must have heard about the news. I opened a random newspaper online. Articles of the explosion were all over the web. They mentioned a terrorist and his accomplice, but only showed V’s picture, taken by a security camera in London. The police most certainly had my photo as well, by now.

  
  


_“You will have to leave the office as if nothing had happened. Step outside and then turn to your left. Walk past the elevators and take the stairs.”_

  
  


I looked through the pockets of my coat and found nothing. I was not going to leave behind any clues of my whereabouts. I had to leave it here, along with my lunchbox. I could only take my purse. 

  
  


“I am going to use the restroom,” I told the girls. They nodded their head and returned to their work. I did not even log out of my computer, nor cleaned my desk. Everything was left in its current state. I made a turn left and walked past the elevators, to the stairs.

From where I was standing, near the windows, I could hear the police car sirens. Seconds later, cars raced down the street. The cars were distinguished by the red and blue lights. I watched them park outside. This was real. This was serious. They must have thought I had committed a serious crime.

  
  


_“Good, now head down to the basement.”_ There must have been a camera in the hallway, through which V was following me. My eyes spotted it in a corner. _“By now, the police have reached the entrance and are past the security. They are heading toward the elevator.”_ The elevator was going to be there at any second. I had enough time to disappear and climb down the stairs.

  
  


I could only imagine what was happening. The policemen, accompanied by a detective, asking for my name and for the location of my office. They will investigate my desk, search my coat, my lunchbox. I held my purse tightly against me. The keys were still in my purse - they never left my side.

  
  


_“Take the door that leads to the underground parking lot. You will then walk fifty meters to the right. There is a door there. I have hidden beneath the black car a key for you. Use it to open that door.”_

  
  


I sighed. The parking lot, as I had expected it, was filled with cars. Most people were still at work.

  
  


“Check the other door,” a voice loudly barked the orders, “we wouldn’t want her to run past us.” I jumped and hid behind a car. Two policemen, with a talkie-walkie in their hand, communicate with their colleagues upstairs.

  
  


_“Be careful,”_ V spoke in my ear again. _"Lay low. I will give you the signal. Stay where you are… A bit longer… The coast is clear. Go. Now. They are not looking at you."_

  
  


Cameras were everywhere. V could see me as I progressed, and he monitored the policemen's actions and steps. I avoided detection and sneaked past them, toward the door V mentioned. There was a black car indeed. I searched blindly, with my hand, beneath the car. I felt the engines dirty, but I eventually found a key taped to it. With the key, I opened the door and made it outside. The cold air hit me. My coat was upstairs, but I could not take it with me.

  
  


_“Good. Now, cross the street and turn left. The police cars are all parked outside, at your right. You will cross the street again and walk a hundred meters.”_ I followed his instructions. I quickly crossed the streets and tried to disappear into the crowd of people. A hundred meters further, there was an alleyway. _“Turn there.”_ I did just that. _“Walk twenty meters. Once you do that, put your hands over your eyes.”_

  
  


I felt like an idiot. I was also scared. Anything could have happened to me, and I was not sure with who I preferred to deal with: V or the police. I had to convince myself that I could trust V. He saved my life before, so maybe he was saving my life again. I walked into the alleyway and closed my eyes. Until I covered my eyes with my hands, nothing happened. 

  
  


Suddenly, I felt a piece of fabric being put over my eyes. I gasped.

←→

A door was opened and I was pushed forward. I almost stumbled into the void. Beneath my feet, there was a marble floor. Then, I felt a carpet. The door through which I had just come through closed behind. 

“You can take your blindfold off.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I took off the blindfold and turned around. In front of me was standing V, but without his hat and his cape. “What is this place?” I asked. It was the strangest looking room I have ever seen. The walls were completely covered by stacked up books. There were very few shelves. Paintings hung from the ceiling were put on display, with various scenes from the Bible or myths. Some statues and medieval armours were placed in the corners of the rooms, as if they were the guardians of this place. He also had a few instruments exposed: a piano, a harp. He also had two different record machines: one that used vinyl discs and one that worked with buttons. 

I quickly understood that the decoration was a bit chaotic. Between the objects in this room, it was just an accumulation of pieces of arts and literature. “Allow me to welcome you to my abode,” V said, “I call this place the Shadow Gallery.” He must have guessed what I was thinking. “Everything you see should belong in a museum,” he explained, “but I put my hands on them before the Ministry of objectionable material could destroy them.”

“You stole them?”

“Oh, no,” he defended himself. “Stealing implies ownership. You cannot steal from the censor. I merely reclaimed them.”

I sighed. Looking around I realized that blowing up a building was a worse crime than stolen art. I was also standing in his home, and I could not allow myself to make such judgements. I nodded my head and continued to look around. What else could I have done?

I tried to understand what had happened to me and understand my own logic. I must have made a terrible choice to trust me. I was instantly regretting that decision. I could have been accused of collaboration or incitation. The media would smear my name and the government would go after my mother. The other scenario was that the police would have dealt with me personally, and I would have been taken care of by Samuel Adler, the last man I wanted to interact with. “How did you know they were coming after me?” I asked him.

“Perhaps you would like to talk this over in the kitchen,” he invited me to follow him. “I will prepare you a cup of tea. Or coffee. Whatever you prefer.”

I braced myself, feeling the goosebumps on my skin. The Shadow Gallery, extravagant in its own way, was also very welcoming. He truly did arrange it to suit him. I thought that if I could understand what the motivation behind it was, I could understand the man behind the mask.

“Odd choice of you to take me to your secret lair,” I laughed. I had made it sound like he was a supervillain.

In the kitchen, he motioned me to take a seat and began preparing something to drink. “I had no other choice, Wendy, but to take you here. There is no other place where you are safe. The police coming after you has put my plans on a hiatus, and I am afraid that I will have to readjust everything accordingly. And to answer your question, I managed to hack the security system and keep an eye on the Fingermen’s activities. This is how I coordinate everything. I saw the news and I knew you will be in trouble. I placed that note and the Bluetooth earpiece purposefully, before the day of work began, and was ready to get you out.”

A small sigh escaped. I smiled a bit. “I am very grateful for your help, V,” I said. He nodded his head at me. I watched him boil the water for the tea. He skillfully worked with his gloved hands. I was wondering if he would show his face to me since we were hidden from London’s eyes. Perhaps not. “When will it be safe for me to go home?” I asked.

I thought I saw him freeze for a moment. I watched him take out some porcelain cups and pour tea in. “I believe until the 5th of November,” he said, “after that, it will not matter.”

“Wait,” I stood up from my chair, “did you say the 5th of November?”

“Yes.”

“But today is November the 5th! You mean the 5th of November, a year from now!”

“I am sorry,” he said. I was not sure if he truly felt pity for me. I had no idea how he managed to keep his voice stern and steady. I, on the other hand, was about to cry at any moment.

“But I did not ask for this!”

“Like I said,” he turned around and place the cup of tea in front of me, “I am sorry, Wendy. You have to understand that, if they were to catch you, they would imprison you, torture you and maybe even kill you in the hopes to get to me. After what had happened last night, I could not let that happen. I cannot let that sit on my conscience. For this reason, I brought you here, where you will be safe.”

“You made a mistake by bringing me here! Now I know things about you and your secret base which I am not supposed to know. That we are underground, that it is within a few minutes’ radius from that alleyway. You should have just let me escape and run! I could have gone to live with some friends!”

“You are wanted by the police. If they know where you work, they know where you live, and they know who is in your entourage. After that, finding you will not be that hard.” The moment he said entourage, my heart was pounding in my chest. In shock, I brought my hand to cover my mouth and gasped. “What is the matter?” he asked.

“They will get to my mother!”

“…” V said nothing. It meant everything, and so I began to panic. My biggest fear, of losing who had I had left from my family, was going to become true.

I was hyperventilating. “V, please,” I begged, “please, please, please, I need to make sure my mother is safe!” I walked around the table to get to him. My hands, on their own, moved toward him, to hold onto anything. His clothes, his mask, his wrists. “You know that they will go after her! No one touches my mother and gets away with it! V, please, you have to help me here! You can’t let that happen!”

He took both my hands in his and kept them from grabbing onto his vest. “Nothing will happen to your mother.”

“Can you promise that?”

“…”

“I knew it!" I pointed my index finger at his face, "oh I called it! You were saying this just so that I would calm down!” I hissed. “V, please, do something! Bring her here!”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head. He shook his hands and his head. 

“If you don’t, I will not stop crying! Oh, I can be annoying, trust me! I am excellent at that! Oh! Even worse! I will starve myself! I will go on a hunger strike!” I was a bit all over the place. I should have stuck to one of the two – appeal to his emotions or create fear in him. I could not think straight, and I could not be convinced that a terrorist like him could think straight too. I felt I was losing ground. I could not read his expressions, therefore I could not infer what he was thinking. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I know, I know…” I said mostly to myself. “A year… Impossible. And my mother… In danger…” I mumbled.  
  
  


He wanted to say something but at that moment, I was on the verge of crying. My face twisted into a grimace, turning red and hot in the process. The words would not come out of my mouth. I heard him sigh behind his mask and take a step back. It stirred something in him. He patted me on the shoulders and led me back to my seat. “I will see what I can do.”

“Hurry!!” I almost shouted, “they will get to her before tonight!”

He made me sit down and drink my tea. “If you cooperate, it will be easier for you. I can make a few arrangements, to accommodate you. I will not be able to do that if you become difficult to deal with. Do we have a deal?” I nodded my hand and shook hands with him. I hoped that making a deal, for him, meant the same thing as making a deal, for me. Who knew how his mind worked? But the moment I knew my mother was safe and by my side, I knew I could start breathing easily again.


	6. Wasteland

V has gone missing for a few hours, and I found myself all alone in the Shadow Gallery. With my mother on my mind, I was not sure if it was a good idea to disappear too. I could have searched for an exit and made my way back home, but V would have found me, as would have the Fingermen. The only thing I could do was explore his home, and try to get a sense of who he was. After looking through every single book he had, inspecting his DVD collection, and browsing through his records, I could still not get a sense of his identity. His tastes were all over the place. In fact, I was not even sure all of these pieces were to his taste. Perhaps he simply liked to collect things. 

"Crazy..." I spoke to myself, "I have not seen any of these books in the bookshops since I was a little girl." After the war, the Norsefire party has made the decision to ban all books that were questionable or dangerous. With the years, many of them I have forgotten, but seeing them here brought back memories. I even found, among his piles of books, Michael and John's favourite ones. "Unbelievable..."

I looked at the record machine, after. Most of the songs dated from the 40s to the 70s. My mother must have known a few of them, from her childhood. I looked over my shoulder at the television behind me. I tried to understand how one could entertain themselves in an underground home. One would certainly need to interact with people. V seemed perfectly content in that chaos. Perhaps he was not like me and did not need company. And with the number of movies, books and songs, it would keep him busy for a lifetime. 

I inspected the area from which we came from. There must have been a door, somewhere. It was hidden. 

I kept looking and then I stopped. If V was gone, I could only hope he went to fetch my mother. The police must have been after her, assuming that I had hidden at her house. If I left the Shadow Gallery, my mother would be with V. I could not count on him to keep her alive and I could not allow myself to leave her with a terrorist. I found myself trapped again, but this time, I was the one who locked myself in the cage and threw the key away. “I should have never asked him to get her…” I pondered.

Something behind me moved and I jumped. I backed away and a pile of books fell on the floor. The secret door was opened, and V held my mother by the upper arm. She too has been blindfolded on her way here. “Mother!” I shouted.

“Wendy??”

I ran to her and took her blindfold off. Mother cupped my face in her hands and pulled me into an embrace.

“I was so worried,” she began to explain to me, “I heard that something happened at your office but I did not believe it would be related to you! And then I ringed but you never answered your phone. I began to assume the worse – “

“- it’s alright,” I calmed her down. I nodded my head at V, thanking him for what he has done, and I helped my mother sit down.

“He kidnapped me!” she pointed her finger at him. “And he kidnapped you too!” She turned her head toward V and said: “Let us go! The police will find us, and you will be in trouble!”

“If that happens, you being here will be the least of my worries,” he said.

I positioned myself between them. “Mom, let’s not make him angry,” I hissed at her. Mother has always been the one to call the shots but as I grew older, that role went to me. I was the chief, now, and mother would listen to me.

V left us. He knew that I would have a lot of explaining to do and his presence was only adding more stress to the situation. The door was locked, so we could not escape either. I led my mother to the living room and got her to sit down on the couch. “Do you need a glass of water?”

She completely ignored my question. “Wendy, how did you get here?” She asked.

I sighed and sat down. I did not know where to begin. “It’s a complicated story, mom.”

“He is the terrorist they speak of on the telly!”

I shushed her, sensing that she was getting agitated. I was convinced V could hear us from where he was, but mother did not care.

“We need to get out,” mother continued.

“That, I agree,” I whispered back, “but I don’t see this happen anytime soon. The best we can do is stay quiet and cooperate. When the Fingermen will find us, we will just say that he had a gun and he held us at gunpoint. He’s a terrorist, so they will believe that!” And I was willing to do anything to assure my mother’s safety.

I explained to her what had happened to me, how I met him, and how he saved me from the police coming after me, at work. Recounting the events left me confused, unable to pinpoint whether he was a hero or a villain.

We talked in hush-hush. We heard something cook, in the kitchen, then we smelled it. I looked at my mom, who swallowed with difficulty.

“Are you hungry, mother?”

She scoffed. “Who would want to eat from him?”

I rolled my eyes. “We don’t have another choice,” I said. “Besides, he has been taking care of me while I was here. I know that you are worried. Even I do not know what is coming next, but the only thing we can do is not provoke him, and we should be safe.” I understood that my mother was not in the mood for food, but she would come around eventually.

I brought her to my room – or V’s room before I came here – and got her to sleep. She insisted that I stayed by her side, but I promised nothing would happen and that I was there if she needed me.

“That is the strangest room I have ever seen,” mother said, looking around. Piles of books circled the bed. They were reaching the ceiling already.

I chuckled. “I bet he has read all of them,” I joked.

We quietly listened to V cook. He began whistling too. The atmosphere began to feel less threatening. Mom closed her eyes and fell asleep.

I got up and walked to the kitchen. The smell was incredible, it felt like one of those luxurious restaurants where high-ranking officials dined at. I found V standing in front of the stove, a frilly pink apron on top of his black, fitted clothes. He danced around, swaying his hips, and whistling, as the radio played an old song. I stood by the doorframe, a bit amused by what I was seeing, but also scared. V was unpredictable still. I knew that the sight was funny, but I did not know what he was going to do if he saw me laughing.

He turned his head around and saw me standing there. Turning down the volume, he said: “how is your mother doing?”

I nodded my head. “She is doing good. I managed to get her to fall asleep.”

“Good, good!” he said joyfully. “Would you like some crepes?” He flipped one of the crepes, throwing it in the air and catching it in the pan, then placed the pan back on the stove. “I have strawberry jam, blueberry jam, prune jam, apricot jam.”

“That’s… a lot of jam,” I noted. I frowned. It was about to be noon and V was making crepes. “Should we not have a meal, before we get to dessert?”

“I have a sweet-tooth, I must admit,” V said, then he picked up a spoon and started spreading jam on one of the crepes that was ready. “Sometimes, I skip dinner altogether.”

I did not find that healthy. I was so used to eating dinner first, then having dessert. It felt like a childish decision, to me, to only have dessert. I could not believe that a grown man like himself would behave like that. But then, when I thought about it, he used to live on his own, and before I came, he could allow himself to do whatever he wanted.

“Have a seat,” V invited me. He placed the crepe in front of me, then redirected his attention to the crepe that was on the pan. I rolled the crepe and ate quietly.

“I have to thank you, for saving my mother,” I said. “Did she say anything to you, when you got her here?”

“Oh,” V sighed but sounded amused at the same time, “just a few curse words. Some were _very_ creative. But it was to be expected.”

I chuckled. “Allow me to apologize on her behalf,” I said. “And thank you for the crepes.” I figured that I should help him do the dishes, but after he would finish eating. For someone who was wearing a mask at all times, I understood that it was best I left him to eat on his own.

←→

As the days went by, my mother barely left the room she was in. I tried to get her to watch a movie with me. After all, V had a very comfortable couch and a vast selection of DVDs. There was nothing else to do, with all this free time. Mother stayed in bed, curled up. I told myself that she would grow tired of that eventually, and she will come out. Life continued as normally as it could have been.

V spent his days engulfed in the arts. He read and watched movies for hours, painted and drew extensively. I watched him sword fight, fencing against a mannequin even, but it was interesting to know that such skills would never be put to practice, in the real world. I learned that he was very specific about his weapons of choice – usually knives, his preferred weapon, which he knew how to use with great accuracy.

He asked him a few questions about the books in my room. He seemed to know which one I talked about – sometimes the memories of the book were fresh in his memory, sometimes I would need to give him a reminder. He recognized them all, leading me to believe he has read them all, at some point in his life. He would even suggest me to watch the movie after I had read the book.

And on some occasions, I would catch him sitting on the couch, with a movie on. I would never join in, although I was curious to know what he was watching. He would invite me to sit on the couch with him. It was big enough that there would be a distance between the two of us, but it still felt uncomfortable. I was very resentful of him, for having brought me on that rooftop, to see the Old Bailey blow up. Because of him, my life went on a downward spiral. For this reason, I would not do anything that would make him happy. He can just watch these movies alone.

And as time passed, my mother finally walked out of our room. At first, she would only eat with us in the kitchen and quickly return to hiding. Over time, she would spend her days with me. We were in our own little world, talking about movies and books and songs. The art was a bit too complicated for us – the paintings had a hidden meaning, and there was not much to discuss when you did not know the story behind the art.

Almost a month must have gone by before my mother decided to speak to V. Before, she used to communicate to him through me. And much to my surprise, she opened up a lot faster than I did. It hurt me a bit, because it felt like a betrayal, even if I knew that it was not the case.

One day, I woke up at a very early hour. It was unusual of me, but I assumed it was because I got cold. I stood up from my bed and went to search for V to ask him to adjust the temperature. When I walked into the living room, I realized that no one was there. The whole Gallery was empty.

I ran back to our room and woke up my mother, who had been sleeping by my side. “Mom, wake up!” I shook her slightly. “V is gone. Do you know what that means?” She blinked a few times before her gaze was locked on mine. We looked at each other, thinking about the same thing. She packed our items in a bag while I went to look for the exit. The door was locked, but I was convinced there must have been another secret passage.

“Do you think V has this place under security?” my mom asked, and I felt the panic in her voice.

“I doubt it. It was just him before. I cannot say the same about cameras, but I don’t think it is probable. We would have seen him set them up.”

“But he just disappears like a ghost! How could we be sure he never set up any cameras?”

“We would have noticed a monitor, by now, that was connected to them.”

V did have technology in the Shadow Gallery, but there was nothing to point to security cameras inside the Gallery. He accessed the CCTV system using another computer, outside his home. I was not sure what to think: either V was very stupid to trust us to not escape, or he wanted to give us the illusion that he was very stupid.

“Where are we supposed to go, if we get out?” my mom asked.

“Let’s not discuss this here, in case he is monitoring the audio system.” We can never be too careful.

I had wanted to contact a friend. It was less than a month, and V was with us. I could not simply look for a way out. Now was our chance, and it felt as if it has been wasted. Mom gave up and unpacked our things. I eventually gave up too and went to sit on the couch.

“This is ridiculous,” I told my mother, “the man fights for freedom, but he does not give us the freedom to leave. If we want to get captured and interrogated, we should _be free_ to do so.”

Mom sat next to me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I understand you, Wendy.”

“How crazy… It will soon be a whole month since we started living with this man. He has not harmed us, and yet, I cannot be convinced he cares about our safety either! My hypothesis is that he believes we know something we should not know! He must be afraid that we will reveal something about him to the Fingermen!”

“And what do you think it is?”

“I do not have a single clue!” I exclaimed. I was beginning to be agitated. I rose on my feet and walked in circles. “We don’t even know the location of the Shadow Gallery. We could be anywhere, in London. We don’t know his identity, so we cannot betray him.”

And then, something in my head clicked.

“Oh, Lord!” I uttered suddenly. “Why have we not thought about that?”

“About what?”

“That man,” I pointed my index finger at the exit, “V,” I continued, “is hiding behind a mask but we have so many clues around us to lead us to his identity! We should have made a profile of him by now.” I should have, since the beginning, accepted his offers to discuss books, art and movies. It would have taught me a lot about his person.

Mom sighed. “Wendy… I understand your argument, but the man’s tastes for the arts are all over the place. He could be anyone – the books he reads or the movies he watches will not lead you anywhere.”

“Not even a profession? Or a group of people? Does he not seem like an intellectual to you?”

“Intellectual? As in an academic? I am not sure, Wendy. He is also very strong and agile; he could be an Olympian.” She had a point. “We will not find anything conclusive here. I am sure the Fingermen have much more information on him than we do.”

That made me sit down and think. Mom was right, once again, but I was not ready to give up so soon.


	7. Warry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V requires Wendy's help on a mission to her old office. There, she attempts to let others know that she is in trouble.

Where did V go? No one knew.

  
  


I dared not ask him. My argument was that the least I knew, the more at peace I was. If he were to told me about his grandiose plans of destruction and murder, I would have felt guilt over it. I also believed that, if the Fingermen were to find us and interrogate me and my mother, we were not going to be liable in court. 

  
  


The thought of knocking V unconscious in his sleep, but then the trouble would be that I would have to search for a way out. I needed him to open the doors, otherwise, mom and I would be stuck in the Shadow Gallery like we were, when he left. 

  
  


Our stay was made comfortable, otherwise. V made sure we had enough clothes and there was always food on the table. We were missing other items, however. I have used his shampoos and soaps before. They had a strange texture and unusual smell to them - not bad, just unusual. They did not seem to be effective on me. They left my skin feeling dry. I talked to my mother about that and she had the same opinion as me. We tried not to complain about it because we were indeed using his own products, but then, a few days later, I felt cramps in my lower stomach, and I knew that this was a sign.

  
  


“Do you think he will take it well?” my mother asked me. We were whispering about requesting V our own products.

  
  


I looked over my shoulder and saw that V was focused on polishing a rapier he had. I shrugged. “I never saw him burst into a fit,” I noted. Indeed, over the time spent here, I noted that V had a very calm temper. I was the one who was more prone to throwing a tantrum. Whenever I would talk to V, he would remain very calm, speak very little, and listen a lot. It became unbearable at times, because I could not see his expressions or his eyes, only his mask. It was uncanny. I have thought to myself before that I should get him to talk about something that he would like, that way, I could pick up on his speech patterns, his voice, his tonality and maybe even an accent. 

  
  


I looked at my mom and whispered: “it’s like I am constantly looking for clues and information, to give to the police if they get us out.”

  
  


My mother gave me a severe look.

  
  


“Do you think he knows that?” I asked. “Do you think this is why he speaks so little?”

  
  


It was still very early and so my hopes of getting out were very strong. The more time passed, and the more this feeling would die down. I ended up leaving the couch and approaching V. My mother flipped through the channels of the television and raised the volume.

  
  


“V,” I said, “are you busy right now?”

  
  


V put his sword down and looked at me. “No,” he replied.

  
  


“Can I talk to you, in private? In the kitchen, maybe?”

  
  


I felt suddenly uncomfortable at my own demand. To be alone with him did not make me feel well, but I had to. I was glad V accepted this and followed me there.

I led him to the kitchen, away from my mother. He followed me without resisting. “We need to talk,” I said finally, in the most serious tone. I managed to get him to sit down at the table. My hand lingered on the armrest. He looked down, then up. “I understand that… I will have to stay here for awhile. My mother is not too happy, but it cannot be helped. If I have to cooperate with you, you must also cooperate with me. I have one request to make to you, if this is how things are going to be.”

“And what is that request?” he asked.

I swallowed my saliva with difficulty. That was the difficult part. “I need you to understand that … my mother and I are … women,” I craned my head awkwardly, “and we need some … accommodations.”

“Oh.”

I was referring to hygiene products. I was happy he was understanding my meaning. “Actually!” I continued happily, “I know that I am asking for a lot, but I would need you to make sure we have enough clothes or soaps or shampoos. I could continue using your products, but they have a strange smell…” I have seen the soaps and shampoos V used. Most of men’s hygiene products had an earthy and musky scent. His also had a different texture, as if they were meant for sensitive or irritable skin. They were not working on me..

“I understand. I will see what I can do,” V promised.

I smiled and walked away, happy to have resolved this problem and with V who understood the tacit meaning.

V came back, a few days later, with a basket full of products. Upon inspection, I discovered pads, shampoos, scrubs, oils, lotions, creams. He brought many of them, for different skin types. I did not know how to tell him that my skincare habits were not so elaborate. “I did not know what you needed exactly,” V said, “so I picked a little of everything.”

I laughed: “a little? I feel like I am opening a treasure! Where did you get all of this stuff?” After the war, my mother and I did not have access to such goods. We used basic products such as soap and shampoo.

“They were supposed to be delivered to the ladies of the high society,” V informed me, “I intercepted these packages before they made it.”

“Wait, so you stole them?” I scoffed and laughed. I could not get angry at him. The men who worked for the Norsefire party were wealthy and their wives and daughters were lucky to enjoy such luxuries. I was lucky V could get his hands on them for me.

I called my mother to come see what V has brought us. I wondered why V has not stolen anything for himself. Perhaps the products smelled too strong of flowers. I knew that men were not so meticulous when it came to beauty and taking care of their skin, but I was convinced that, if V would have searched, he would have found something for himself.

And because of V’s efforts for us, mom even began doing services for him. Cleaning, dusting, washing. She prepared some of his meals and did the dishes for him even. I was a bit more reluctant at helping him. He has caused us nothing but trouble and I wanted him to know that we were unhappy here. Providing us with clothes and food was the least he could do. 

  
  


One night, mom went to bed early. V and I were still awake, in the Shadow Gallery. There was nothing for me to do - I did not want to watch a movie and it was too dark to read. I found him sitting in front of some paintings. 

  
  


I looked at him, then at the paintings. I could not understand why he could sit so still. When I first saw the art, I watched them for a few moments and walked away, never paying attention to them again. V spoke up first: “this one is about childhood,” he pointed at one drawing where there were children, “and this one is titled ‘ _Puberty’_ ,” he explained. “I placed them in such a way that you get to see the course of life.”

  
  


I nodded my head. “So they are not displayed here randomly,” I said. “The Shadow Gallery seems really thought out.”

  
  


“I spent maybe nearly ten years trying to build it,” V explained, “and every piece here is dear to me.”

  
  


I began to wonder if V saved these pieces of art for the sake of preserving art, or if he selectively saved only the ones he liked. 

  
  


He turned his head to watch my reaction but I had no reaction to give him. 

  
  


“Why are you not asleep?” I asked him.

  
  


“I should be asking the same to you.”

  
  


I shrugged my shoulders. “Are you waiting for me to sleep so that you can sneak away?”

  
  


I heard him chuckle behind the mask. “How can I sneak away from my own home?”

  
  


I laughed. “Touché!”

  
  


He told me to bring a stool so that I could sit next to him. I did not want to spend the evening with him, speaking about art, but then I remembered my objective of finding out more about him. V could have sensed that I was still on the fence about the situation: I could not trust him but I could not distrust him either. I was going to let him speak about what he wanted tonight, and let the conversation flow.

  
  


“I am not so knowledgeable about art,” I admitted, “and I have a very hard time grasping the meaning of a piece.”

  
  


V analyzed the art. He must have thought about the artist, or the technique, or the message. What he said after that surprised me:

  
  


“I would need your assistance on a mission, Wendy. Do you think you can do that?”

  
  


←→

  
  


“Do not open your eyes just yet.” Then V took off the blindfold. I held my breath. It felt surreal, to know that I was outside once again. The cool air against my skin felt pleasant. “Count to ten, then open your eyes.”

  
  
  


“1…2...3...4…” I heard footsteps behind me. V has been very thorough, in his plan. “5...6...7...8…” I could no longer hear him. I could have opened my eyes but I decided to finish counting. “9...10.” The sunlight blinded me for a moment but my eyes adjusted.

  
  
  


This was my opportunity to escape. I was finally out and I could ask for help. I was standing on a rooftop, within eyeshot from my old workplace. The building, part of the government’s offices, was secured. To access it, you had to work there or receive an invitation to go there. I had my keycard and hopefully still access to the doors, but there was a chance it did not.

  
  
  


V’s instructions have been clear. He gave me a Bluetooth device through which he would give me commands. Using the CCTV system, he would keep watch on me. 

  
  


“ _Can you hear me_?” I heard him through the device.

  
  
  


“Yes.”

  
  
  


“ _You know your instructions. I have checked the blueprints of the building and looked at the system to determine who will be working today. We have already spoken about it. I will guide you through this._ ”

  
  
  


I was glad to have him here. I told myself that he would interfere if I got caught, but I could not be certain. I put my hand over my pocket and felt Adler’s keys inside. This was my personal mission. There was no chance that I could succeed, but I had to try.

  
  
  


I climbed down the building, using a ladder, and found myself standing in an alleyway. I made my way through the crowd and headed toward the building. My clothes - typical of what I would normally wear at work - felt like a costume. I knew I was going to get caught, and that no one would buy into my charade.

  
  
  


Entering the building, I showed my card to the security guy. I greeted everyone politely as if everything was normal. Most of them smiled and I was pretty sure I had gotten away with it. I began to feel more confident.

  
  
  


I reached a security point where I had to put my card on. The light turned red. “I am sorry,” I spoke to the security guard sitting there, “but it is not working.”

  
  
  


He took it from my hand and looked at it. He inserted it in a machine, typed something over the computer, and gave it back. “Try it again.” I did and the light turned green. I could finally pass. I thanked him and smiled. I headed toward the elevator. This was the one I would take every day to get to my office, but instead of stopping at the usual floor, I went above. I tried to mingle as best as I could with the crowd, but I was unsure where the exact office was. 

  
  


“ _You will take a turn on your right at the next door_ ,” V said in my ear.

  
  
  


I looked up and saw the security cameras pointing at me. I wondered who else was watching, other than V. I made a turn to the right and entered a large room. No one was inside. 

  
  
  


“ _Good_ ,” V said, “ _Check now the left pocket of your jacket. You will find a note inside. Insert the information in the system and make the card._ ”

  
  
  


I thought that it was weird. Indeed, there was a slip of paper inside my pocket - I had no clue how V had placed it there without my knowledge. I used a computer to fill in the information and print an access card. V seemed to have figured out the system, and even wrote hints on how to print everything. I looked at the name he selected, Vincent Vanderwall, and chuckled. Double alliteration, five syllables. I saw V as somewhat of an artist, in his own way. 

  
  
  


The printer made a sound, and I went to pick up the laminated card. It should have worked. Mine was garbage. Now V had access to a variety of departments, not just the Office of Archives. 

  
  
  


“ _Time to make your exit,”_ V informed me, “ _Watch out, near the elevators. I see one of the Adler twins standing there._ ”

  
  


My heart pounded in my chest. Depending on which of the two it was, I was going to have to act differently. I hoped it was going to be Oscar, my old boss. I hoped I could meet him at the office, and leave a note there. V would see that, and he would think that I am trying to escape.

  
  


I decided to play dumb with V, and with the Adler twin as well. Pretending to be impulsive, I left the office and acted surprised to see who was standing by the elevator. To my luck, it was my boss. When he laid his eyes on me, his mouth was agape. I pretended to be surprised to - in case V was watching - and smiled at him. “Wendy?”

  
  


“Sir! Good morning!”

  
  


“ _What are you doing?”_ V asked in my ear.

  
  


Mr. Adler had many questions to ask me. Why was I back at the office? Why did I go missing? Why did the cops come after me? What was I doing on this floor? I gave him a smile and followed him into the elevator. The ride down was awkward. V did not speak in my ear and I was not sure he was still there. My fear was that he was coming after me.

  
  


The two of us got down on our floor and headed toward the office as if nothing had happened. I found Donna and Clarice seated at their usual desk. My desk was still the same. “Good m-” They froze.

  
  


“Morning!” I greeted them.

  
  


I sat down on my chair as if nothing happened. Most of my stuff has been cleared, but a few of my items remained. I logged into my computer and opened some random spreadsheets. They focused back their attention on their work but occasionally sent me a glare. I could not hear anything through Bluetooth. I was not sure what V was thinking right now, but I have gotten so far, I could not back down. If V were to catch me, I would just say that it was my personal mission to find out where those keys led to - the ones I carried with me. 

  
  
  


I picked up a notepad and jotted something, pretending I was scribbling something from the screen.

  
  
  


_I am being held hostage by the terrorist V. I don’t know where he is keeping us - his hideout is a secret well-kept, even from me. Please help me. I am innocent. I have nothing to do with this._

  
  


I went back to the keyboard and typed something. I sat there for a while, and told the girls: “I am going to have a smoke outside.” I was not a smoker. I never have started smoking. My goal was to raise their attention. Something was wrong and they both sensed it. 

  
  
  


With my purse, I began to walk away. My heart has never beat that fast in my chest. I feared that someone was going to call the cops to come and get me. V was no longer speaking to me and thus will not help me escape. I was very much on my own.

  
  
  


I enter the elevator and come face to face with a familiar person. It was the man named Peter from the after-work meeting. “Wendy!” he said, cheerfully. “How nice to see you!”

  
  
  


My palms were sweating.

  
  
  


“You look like you just saw a ghost,” he laughed, “are you alright?”

  
  
  


“Everything is fine,” I forced a smile. I pondered for a bit. “You work for the government?”

  
  
  


“Yes! For the IT department. But I rarely leave my office. Most of the time, the communication is done through email.” I nodded my head. The elevator was awfully slow, and I was stuck with him for the ride. “Where are you going?”

  
  
  


“I am going to buy lunch,” I lied. “I forgot my lunchbox at home and I am walking across the street.”

  
  
  


“Maybe you don’t have to do that! We can go eat outside together,” he offered. “There is a new restaurant at the corner of the street. I always wanted to try it but I never had the time t-”

  
  


“-You know what? That sounds lovely, but I -”

  
  


“-oh! It’s alright! I understand.”

  
  


I heard the sound of sirens outside the building. The police were on their way. Someone has called them to come and get me. I was taken by panic. I realized that, although I wanted to be saved, I was too afraid to be taken to the station and interrogated. I suspected that the cops have been called before anyone has seen the note I left on my desk. V had my mother and I needed to make sure nothing happened to him.  
  
  


“We’ll talk later,” I told Peter and ran off. I pressed my index finger on the Bluetooth but no sound came. I thought I had broken it for a second. “V?” I called. My voice was shaking. “V??”   
  
  


“ _You’re in big trouble,_ ” he chuckled playfully, sounding rather amused. I was not sure what terrified me the most: hearing him angry or hearing him amused. 

  
  
  


“You’ve got to help me out,” I said as I looked around. The exits will soon be blocked and the building surrounded.

  
  
  


“ _I should leave you to your own devices,_ ” he lingered, “ _clearly you thought you were being clever…_ ”

  
  
  


“V, I messed up,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that! Tell me how to get out of here.”

  
  
  


He laughed. 

  
  
  


“V!!”  
  


“ _Take twenty steps down that hallway, then a turn to the left._ ”

  
  
  


I did as he said. He took me to a janitor’s closet. “Why would you make me go there?” I asked.

  
  


“ _Walk inside and change into the janitor’s blue bodysuit. With that uniform, blend in the crowd and get out to the back door, the one facing east.”_ I changed clothes as quickly as I could. He instructed me on how to reach that exit. Cops were patrolling the corridors. I managed to mingle in a crowd of people and make my way outside. “ _Now go to that alleyway, where I left you._ ” This was going to be where I will find him. I prepared to face him again. What I have done was a betrayal. I did not expect him to go easy on me, but I hoped he would spare my mother because she had nothing to do with this. 


End file.
